Tomorrow is my last day in the account, and I’ve been sitting with a mix of emotions that I’m still trying to make sense of. I’m sad—really sad—because being a Network Administrator has always been something I dreamed of. For the past few months, I finally got to live that dream. And I didn’t just do the job—I excelled at it.
I found misconfigurations others overlooked.
I became proactive.
I grew more confident every week.
I was genuinely happy to show up and contribute.
For the first time in a long time, I felt aligned with the work I wanted to do. I could see myself building something here—growing, learning, and becoming the kind of engineer I’ve always wanted to be.
But then the toxicity started to take its toll.
At first, I tried to shrug it off. You tell yourself to “just focus on the job,” or “don’t take it personally,” or “it’s just how he is.” But unprofessional behavior has a way of creeping into everything—your mindset, your energy, your confidence. Eventually, it reached a point where I just… shut down.
I became uninspired.
Demotivated.
Disconnected from something I truly cared about.
So is leaving a good thing or a bad thing? For my dream role, it feels like a loss. But for my mental health—it was necessary. Sometimes you have to choose yourself, even when it hurts.
I look back at this account and honestly—it’s a good one. It had potential. It had the right environment, the right projects, and most importantly, the right people. The team was talented, collaborative, and capable of so much more.
What it didn’t have was the leadership it deserved.
A good manager can bring out the best in people. A bad one can quietly destroy everything a team could’ve been. And that’s what saddens me the most—not just what happened to me, but what could continue to happen if nothing changes.
I hope the person I escalated concerns about eventually changes—not for me, but for the people who will remain after I leave. And if he doesn’t, I hope someone else in the team finds the courage to escalate, to speak up, and to continue what I started. No one should have to shrink themselves just to survive the workplace.
Because the truth is:
We weren’t lacking talent.
We weren’t lacking potential.
We weren’t lacking passion.
We were lacking leadership.
And that’s what hurts the most—knowing that a great team is being wasted because the person meant to guide them is doing the opposite.
As I step out tomorrow, I’m carrying both gratitude and disappointment. Gratitude for the role, the lessons, the experience, and the confidence I gained. Disappointment that it had to end for reasons that had nothing to do with my performance or passion.
But maybe this is part of the journey too—learning when to walk away, knowing your worth, and protecting your mental health even when the cost is something you love.
I still want to be a Network Administrator. I still believe I have what it takes. And I’ll carry that belief with me into whatever comes next.
If there’s anything I learned from this, it’s this:
A dream role is meaningless if the environment makes you hate the dream.
And sometimes leaving isn’t giving up—it’s choosing to grow somewhere healthier.
Comments